


Experimenting with the Enemy

by Nitrobot



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: F/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-14
Updated: 2014-04-14
Packaged: 2018-01-19 07:51:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1461541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nitrobot/pseuds/Nitrobot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a stressful day of old nemeses and close calls, Arcee wants nothing more than to frag herself to blissful sleep. But even in her mind, Starscream is an arrogant little slagger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Experimenting with the Enemy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThePraxianWeasleyGeek](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePraxianWeasleyGeek/gifts).



> I meant to have this written a while ago back when me and ThePraxianWeaselyGeek first came up with it, but I got distracted and only managed it just now. This is a gift to her as well, cause I like to think of her as the secondary authority when it comes to Starcee.  
> Also, the time frame for this is just after Predatory, and I put 'ambiguous relationships' cause Arcee goes through a few other mechs before reaching Starscream, but I don't think they count as a proper ship thing other than 'I just really need to overload right now so give me hot mechs to think about'.

Arcee went to her quarters early that evening, when the other Autobots were still discussing Airachnid's return. Frankly, if she never heard that name again it would be too soon. As she guessed, no-one asked after or stopped her. The whole ordeal had wrecked her both emotionally and physically, and all she could do outside of rebooting her systems was to recharge and wait for the revived memories to fall asleep with her.

But she knew she'd never get herself to sweet slumber, even with her strength sapped until she could barely hold her frame up. Collapsing on her berth and powering her optics down, Arcee lay there for ticking minutes that dragged on for hours. Her digits flexed and grabbed the surface beneath her, the air around her becoming hot with frustration hissing out of her vents. She rolled to her side, then the other, onto her back and abdomen, even turning herself around so her helm was at the foot of the berth, but the bliss of sleep was still nowhere within reach. 

In her impatience she started to fiddle with her servos, resting them on her abdominal plates and turning her palms over, bringing her knees up and slamming them back down a klick later. And her thoughts started to drift from Airachnid and Tailgate and the mess of her processor to more... pleasant images. With the air warm as it was her frame started to heat up, her servos moving down from her midsection to her thighs and then lightly resting on her interface panel. Gulping heat enveloped her digits as she traced them around the cover, prodding the soft metal to push it against the rim of her valve beneath it. As the images flashed through her mind, her digits pushed in further. 

Optimus entered her thoughts first, as always; images of him slipping into her quarters late at night and easing her armour off, exposing her valve just as she was emerging from recharge. By the time she recognised the blue and red armour he was already pushing his spike inside, the massive head stretching her wide as he moved his hips forward. It was a familiar fantasy that she welcomed with a fluttering spark, letting her digits collect lubricant to tease her flexing rim. 

The rumble of his systems reverbed through the haze of her fantasy, shaking it until red morphed to yellow and blue to black, her digits slowing down as Optimus' spike changed to Bumblebee's. For some reason her imagination was convinced that he had something like a ‘stinger’ on his spike (she blamed Jack for making her watch nature documentaries about real bees with him for his biology classes), but with how thinking of it made her jaw drop, hinges loose from pleasure, she wasn’t complaining.

With so much time, and lubricant, on her hands, Arcee took the chance to experiment a little with her usual fantasies; switching between Bumblebee and Optimus, trying to imagine how Bulkhead might have fragged femmes (she almost overloaded early thanks to _that_ little venture) and even remembering all the other Autobots who had managed to catch her interest back on Cybertron all those years ago. 

That was when things got weird. 

That was when a certain _Decepticon_ decided to sneak his slimy way into her processor. 

Now Arcee wasn’t such a faithful Autobot purist when it came to getting herself a well-deserved overload; of course she had found herself attracted to a chassis that just so happened to have a Decepticon insignia plastered on it (and she certainly wasn’t the _only_ femme to have done so). But even in the heat of the moment she never recalled any of her fantasy ‘Cons having _wings_ , or the most insufferable smirk to ever be let spread on a faceplate.

But whether she liked it or not, Starscream kept fizzling in and out of view through her lidded optics gazing down her coolant-stained stomach plating. Where her digits stroked her folds she saw Seeker talons, or worse, a sharp grey glossa lapping at the wet rim above lazy red optics. She squeezed her optics closed to try and chase the thought away; gritting her denta in a bitten frown, but no matter how she tried to make the silver armour dissolve into something brighter or the optics to change back to safe blue, her body still tingled with Seeker-wrought pleasure. Starscream was as stubborn in her processor as he was in real life.

But even when she finally managed to shove him aside with a plaintive but needed thought of Cliffjumper, it felt... weak. Every klick she imagined his spike inside her was another slip away from her anticipated overload. Her gasps changed from pleasure to frustration- who the Pit did that slagger think he was, interrupting the _one place_ she could get _away_ from the war and Decepticon bullets? And he even had the gall to completely ruin every other mech for her _and_ her entire overload. 

She was almost furious enough to give up the whole thing then and there just to spite him- or whatever it was that her mind had spat out at her.

Almost. 

_'Oh, frag it.'_  
Starscream was all too glad to take over then, the light chuckle and groan of his vocaliser stroking along her audios. Arcee’s digits again became imaginary claws, his glossa now playing at her neckplates. When her backstrut arched she could almost feel his chestplate thudding against her own, and her hips thrusting up into a warm open codpiece. Her optics inched open again with her processor projecting what might have passed for a sizeable Seeker spike. An unfortunately loud moan jolted from her at imagining the spike’s tapered head pushing against her valve rim, pulsing unpredictably and almost in time with her frantic spark. Her mouth opened wide when her digits shoved themselves fully inside, enough to play against her deeper pleasure nodes. Her free servo clawed back into her berth, trying to keep her body down as oncoming overload wracked it with spasms. A dark chuckle and damp glossa kiss on her neck and faceplate finally brought it through, and Arcee had to bite down hard on a knuckle joint to stop from screaming her relief. 

It was long writhing klicks before she could bring her hand away and fall gasping back onto her berth, slowly pulling her other digits out of her valve with long slick trails of lubricant. Heaving out her exhaustion through her vents, she thought she felt phantom lips on her chestplates, just over her spark, before Starscream finally disappeared. She almost caught herself wondering if _he_ would have overloaded that hard as well, and wiped her damp digits off before slapping herself with them.


End file.
